


Soaked

by Jo (jmathieson)



Series: Tangents and Intersections ~ Kink Bingo 2013 [89]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Canadian Shack, Community: kink_bingo, Definitely not AoS, Huddling For Warmth, Hypothermia, In Wisconsin, Jossed, M/M, SHIELD Husbands, Shower Sex, Wet Clothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-23
Updated: 2013-10-23
Packaged: 2017-12-30 05:34:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1014740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jmathieson/pseuds/Jo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Up north, a mission goes south.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soaked

**Author's Note:**

> Kink Bingo Round Six (2013) ~ Wet/Messy/Dirty

"'It'll be fun. It'll be just like old times, you and me, out on a mission. What could go wrong?'" Clint scowled as Phil quoted his words back at him.

"Hey, c'mon boss, how was I supposed to know that the guy was a crackpot who was trying to kidnap me? I mean, if the SHIELD analysts who approved this mission didn't see it coming, not to mention the fact that you didn't see it coming either..."

"Oh, so it's my fault now, is it?"

Clint knew that Coulson's irritation was hiding his concern, and that was one of the reasons he didn't bother to answer. The other was that it was getting increasingly hard to focus on putting one foot in front of the other without falling over, and he suddenly didn't have the extra concentration to talk without his teeth chattering, which would have just made Phil more concerned and more upset.

It was late November and they were in the middle of nowhere in Northern Wisconsin, nothing but lakes and trees for miles in every direction. They had no radio (or phone or GPS, thanks to an EMP set off by the contact they were meant to have been meeting), and minimal supplies. It was raining and just barely above freezing, and Clint was soaked to the skin from having dived into a lake to escape his captors. Possibly not his best move, but it had seemed like a good idea at the time. 

Just like it had seemed a good idea when Phil had said they'd walk to the nearest road and thumb a ride into town, and find a motel with a hot shower. It had been a good plan, except that without a map or any other navigational aid, they had simply had to trust that the muddy logging road they were following would actually lead somewhere. Eventually.

Clint was getting colder and colder. The cold wetness seemed to have seeped into his bones and numbed his brain, to the point where he didn't notice that Phil had stopped walking, and bumped into his back, then stumbled as he bounced off and almost fell.

Phil grabbed his arm, looked into his face and said sharply,

"Clint."

"'m fine."

"You're not fine. You're hypothermic," Phil said.

"Jus' like old times," Clint slurred with a grin. "'member that time in Alaska?"

"I don't want to think about that time in Alaska. Or the time in Poland, either. At least this time you don't have a bullet in you."

"Nope, jus' a graze." Shit, he hadn't meant to say that.

"Where," Phil growled through clenched teeth.

"Rib. s'fine. S'not even bleeding. The col' water..." Clint trailed off and wiped a hand across his eyes, trying to clear the water out of them so that he could see clearly. Focus properly. "Phil, I'm not in very good shape."

Phil's mouth was a hard line, and Clint knew it was fear. He looked around, trying to figure out why they had stopped. They had come to a t-junction, the logging road (or whatever it was) that they were on met another...trail. This one looked even less well used. That was a bad sign, a sign that they'd spent that last 40 minutes walking away from civilization instead of towards it. Phil was obviously trying to decide if they should head back the way they had come, or chance that this trail led somewhere. Clint blinked the water out of his eyes and looked around, trying to see... Trying to spot something, anything that would indicate that there were people around.

"I'm sorry to say this, Clint, but I think we need to turn back." Phil's face and voice were tight. He hated not having any other option, and he hated how bad Clint looked. Clint just nodded and tried to straighten his shoulders and look like he could make it. Because he could. He could do whatever he needed to do. Being stubborn was a virtue sometimes. As they turned to head back the way they had come, something caught Clint's eye.

"Phil, wait." He grasped Phil's elbow with stiff, shaking fingers. "I saw something. Over there." Clint pointed up the partly-overgrown trail.

Phil looked, his body going even more tense in readiness to meet a threat.

"Reflection, on glass." Clint said, clarifying. "Maybe a window."

"Stay here, I'll go check it out." 

Clint shook his head. "Wha'ever it is, is as far as I'm goin'. Sorry boss." 

Phil considered arguing, but decided instead to hope for the best: a well stocked hunter's cabin, or better yet, someone's weekend cottage, complete with hot showers and a telephone line. Phil told himself not to get his hopes up. At this point a rusted out hulk of a car that they could crawl under out of the rain so that he could wrap himself around Clint and start to warm him up would do.

What they found was halfway in between. It was a cabin, an old, crumbling one with broken windows and a falling-off door. The mess on the floor made it obvious that the local wildlife had made themselves at home. But it had a woodstove, and a roof, and that was enough to have Phil practically dancing for joy. He made Clint sit down on the sagging cot and searched through the coffee cans littering the floor until he found one with matches in it. Then he gathered up every bit of wood, cardboard and paper in the place and piled them in the stove. A small splash of kerosene from an oil lamp made sure that the fire would start even in the dampness. Once he was satisfied that it had caught properly, he turned back to Clint.

"OK, strip."

Clint turned a pale imitation of his usual cocky grin on his husband. "Gee, Phil, not sure I'm in the mood." But he raised clumsy fingers to the zipper of his jacket and started to struggle to get it undone. Phil shoved his worry down as he gently batted Clint's hands out of the way and started to peel him out of his sodden clothes. He hung Clint's jacket, shirt, and pants on nails in the wall behind the stove that were obviously there for that exact purpose. 

"Stand by the stove while I sort out bedding," he said and Clint curled his body as close to the heat as he could, starting to shake again. 

There was a tattered red wool blanket covering the sagging mattress on the cot, and Phil looked around for something else. His own clothes were so wet they wouldn't help at all... He spotted a rolled-up sleeping bag in one corner and grabbed it and unrolled it. A mouse had made a nest in the center of it at one point, chewing a hole that disgorged some of the stuffing, but apart from that it was intact. He spread it on top of the cot. 

"OK, time to get you into bed," Phil said, peeling Clint's wet underwear and socks off and helping him under the sleeping bag. "I'll be right there." Phil dragged a rickety wooden chair over by the cot and put his sidearm on it, and then stripped out of his own clothes. He felt the chill on his skin and braced himself as he climbed under the covers. He pulled Clint half on top of him and wrapped his arms and legs around him. Clint's skin was cold and clammy and still wet, his wet hair was dripping water onto his face and down his neck. Phil wished he'd thought to scrub it dry with his t-shirt, but he wasn't getting back out of bed now, not with the way Clint was clinging to him, shivering, teeth chattering.

"It's OK. You're going to be OK, Clint."

"Can't... can't feel my fingers." Clint said with fear in his voice. Phil drew Clint's right hand out from under the covers. His fingers were cold and blue. Phil guided Clint's four fingers into his mouth and started to suck on them gently. Clint sighed and tried to cuddle closer to Phil's warmth.

"This'd be really sexy if I wasn't freezing to death," he mumbled. Phil squeezed him tighter. "Love you Phil."

~~~~~

The next morning after a breakfast of tinned soup warmed over the dying embers of the stove, Clint and Phil pulled on warm, if still-damp clothes, and re-traced their steps. Two hours walking got them to a rural highway, and Phil gave the first car that stopped twenty bucks to drop them at the nearest motel, which turned out to be a surprisingly nice country-cabin sort of affair that obviously catered to local hunters and fishermen. Phil's SHIELD credit card got them the best room available, and it took Clint less than five minutes to strip naked and get into the shower. Phil laid Clint's socks and underwear over the room's radiator and then called in, letting SHIELD know the basics of what had happened, and arranging for transport. 

"If it's urgent we'll send a chopper, but otherwise a car would be more low profile," said the dispatch agent on the other end of the line.

"A car will be fine, there's nothing wrong with either of us that a hot shower and some food won't fix." Clint had been telling the truth about the bullet wound, it was just a graze.

"Expect a car at your location in approximately four hours."

"Roger that."

Phil stripped down himself and headed for the bathroom.

"Hey, leave some hot water for me, will you?"

"Not sure about that Phil," Clint said sticking his head out of the tub, "I don't think I'm ever getting out of this shower."

"Well, in that case..." Phil climbed in with him. "Car'll be here in four hours to pick us up," he said over the spray of the water.

"Good, that means we have plenty of time for this." Clint slid a hand around Phil's slick wet back and pulled him in for a kiss. Clint pressed up against him warm and wet and horny was infinitely better than Clint pressed up against him cold and wet and shivering, so Phil responded enthusiastically. He was too sore and tired for anything very athletic, and the motel shower was about a quarter of the size of their shower in Stark Tower, so Phil slid one hand into Clint's wet hair and grabbed the bar of soap with the other. Once he had a lather worked up he wrapped his hand around both their cocks.

"Back in the day, you had a 'no sex on missions' rule," Clint said, and then licked beads of water from the side of Phil's face. 

"Mission's over. Besides, I make an exception for missions where you nearly die." Phil said, and claimed his mouth again, possessively. Clint moaned into the kiss as Phil jerked them both off slowly but firmly, and Clint's mounting orgasm and the spray of the hot water combined to chase the last of the chill from his body. He shuddered his release and lay a wet head on Phil's shoulder. 

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. You ready to get out now? Because I don't know about you, but I could really go for some food."

"I could eat."

"Yes, I bet you could. Come on then, steak and fries and all the hot coffee you can drink awaits..."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks always to my excellent editors t! and Shazrolane.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr at: [Queen of Wands](http://jmathieson-fic.tumblr.com/)


End file.
